Ani koshair et nafshi b’nafshach.
And together, their words braided in the sacred oath, a harmony that resonated through the mountain:
B’chaim u’v’mavet.
B’or u’v’choshech.
Ha-shésa yihiyeh kashur,
Kol od ha-brit omedet.
I bind my soul to yours.
In life and in death.
In light and in darkness.
Let the Rift be bound,
So long as the covenant endures.
Their palms seared against the stone as light erupted from Alora’s hand and shadows from Rune’s. The two forces twined together, lashing into the archway until the air itself screamed. A tether burst from their chests, spun of light and darkness, piercing upward into the Rift.
Agony ripped through Rune. The bond flared white-hot, the spell draining like blood from an open wound. Shadows writhed, as though they too feared what was being torn away. Runegritted his teeth, his knees buckling as the tether stitched itself into the Rift above, weaving it shut with their souls.
Alora gasped, her cry echoing his. She sagged, her body shaking, but her hand did not leave the arch. Her light blazed through the cavern, searing, blinding, until it merged with his shadows in a violent clash of black and silver flame.
The air tasted of iron and frost, of smoke and ash. Rune thought for a moment they might unravel.
Then, silence.
The Rift above pulsed once, twice… and steadied. Its glow thinned and slowly faded. They watched as the tear faded from the sky, but he felt it there in his chest, held tight by their tether.
Contained.
Alora buckled against him, and he leaned into her, both holding each other up as they breathed. His shadows curled feebly, sluggish and thin, barely responding to his call.
His strength was gone, but they had succeeded.
Alora could barely lift her head when she whispered, hoarse, pale and trembling with a weak smile. “It’s done.”
His hand shook as he touched her cheek. “Yes,” he rasped.
The wind roared so loud, shaking the mountain, as if it carried Vorak’s rage.
The Harbingers rose slowly, their faces unreadable, though even they were shaken.
Rune helped Alora stand, holding her against him when she swayed.
“Sire,” Calla called faintly, her eyes fixed beyond them. “The Gate...”
The arch shuddered as though waking from a thousand-year sleep. Between the carved glyphs, the stone split with a low groan, and light bled through with red fire, pulsing like a living heart. The center of the arch no longer reflected empty stonebut glowed with a swirling void, shadows and firelight spiraling together, a threshold yawning open.
The Realms were at last in balance.
Alora’s throat worked, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “How much time do we have?”
Before the Covenant forces them to separate.
